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3.78 AVERAGE
3.78 AVERAGE
The blurb was very unexpected and intriguing: "When Arlene Fleet heads up north for college, she promises God that she'll stop fornicating and lying, and never, ever go back to her hometown in Alabama. All she wants from Him is one miracle: make sure the body is never found..."
This book is so original and different, it was hard to put down. I appreciated that all of the characters were multi-faceted and not romanticized (or demonized). Arlene/Lena does not try to absolve herself or make excuses, which is refreshing. Really interesting the whole way through, definitely recommend.
This book is so original and different, it was hard to put down. I appreciated that all of the characters were multi-faceted and not romanticized (or demonized). Arlene/Lena does not try to absolve herself or make excuses, which is refreshing. Really interesting the whole way through, definitely recommend.
"There are gods in Alabama..." Her characterization of those gods in Alabama is spot on (this coming from a native Alabamian). I don't know what I was expecting, but this book took me by surprise every step of the way. I loved by Arlene/Lena's character development - she was a lot more complex than Jackson let on at first. The way that the past and present intertwined and shifted throughout kept me engaged. I stayed up way too late finishing this book, and I have no regrets!
This is my second attempt at writing this; yesterday’s copy inadvertently went to an empty CD-ROM drive, and when I got sick of seeing the little balloon about files ready to be written to the disc, I thoughtlessly killed the files to make the pesky little balloon go away. Interestingly enough, I can’t get it back, so here’s a rewrite, and maybe that’s for the best.
They called her Arlene Fleet when she lived down in Possitt, Alabama. But she years ago re-invented herself, moved to Chicago, and became Lena Fleet. Her boyfriend is black; her teaching job in Chicago is rewarding, and she and God have made little deals that preclude her from ever again going back to Alabama. As the book opens, Lena celebrates the fact that she and God have kept their promises to one another.
But not all is well in Lena’s new world. Her aunt is hosting a retirement party for her uncle back home, and the pressure to come back for the party is high indeed. And there may be a problem with God keeping his promises to Lena. A woman from her hometown has appeared at Lena’s door asking whether she knows anything about Jim Beverly. Indeed, Lena does, and that knowledge is what has kept her from associating with anyone from back home or traveling there for any reason.
Jim Beverly is one of the gods in Alabama—a star high-school football player who moves the ball in miraculous ways and plays doctor with every girl in the high school, or as many as he can get to play along, at least once and often more.
Lena essentially grew up with her cousin, Clarice, and the two were inseparable—more like sisters than cousins. So why did Lena practically break down when the woman from back home showed up asking questions about Jim Beverly?
If you read this, you will gradually understand why, and it won’t be pretty. There is a rape scene in this book that is both graphically detailed and amazingly subtle in the telling. About now, you’re grumbling that one can’t do both. And that would be true with a less talented writer. But Jackson manages to pull this plotline off in layers like slowly, slowly pulling a bandage off lots of hair and a concentration of sensitive nerve endings. It will hurt like I can’t say what, and yet you’ll keep tugging and tugging at that bandage until the last centimeter is pulled off. When it’s off, you’ll gingerly touch that hyper-sensitive body part now covered in gnarly janky leftover adhesive marks and some part of you will wonder whether you should have pulled that tape at all.
You’ll read about a night that forever changed the lives of the two cousins and the football god, and you’ll be amazed that you managed to get through the intensity of this. But you will, because you’ll be enthralled with Jackson’s ability to write about the south and its complexities and nuances. In her talented way, she makes that region of the nation live and breathe and writhe in ways most writers never get close to.
I came away from this needing a brain shower or its equivalent—the ability to get lost in a nice, harmless piece of nonfiction. But it’s not all gloom and horror. There is much here to keep you smiling. Poor Lena has striven for years to avoid telling lies and to remain celibate. But that gets pretty complicated.
It’s narrator rant time; brace yourselves. Jackson should have read her book. I’m sure somewhere there’s a back story as to why she didn’t, but it would have been even more electrifying had she narrated it. Catherine Taber does a stellar job, make no mistake. But the producers overlaid Taber’s outstanding voice on a musical background that was too much, too ridiculous, and too obtrusive. Can someone please explain why sighted audiobook listeners have to have all that intrusive-as-heck music everywhere? I bet if you give any of them a nicely narrated straight NLS book done in the manner that NLS titles are done that aren’t commercial books, they’d cry and run from the book, declaring it too boring. Is it an addiction to that 55-inch flat-screen monster hanging above the bed or wherever they keep it that feeds the need for all-too-often horrible music backgrounds in their audiobooks? Are the publishers trying to give these poor people some kind of Netflix experience minus the screen? I can’t figure it out, and since I’m no sociologist, I’ll never know. But the music that is part of this book sharply and severely degraded it. I would do much better with background sound effects—make it sound like old-time radio if you have to—that’s better than some of the silly background music these commercial publishers insist on. Seriously, if I could have found a synthetic speech voice out there that had something approaching Joshilyn Jackson’s accent, I’d have blown off the audio version of this in favor of a nice synthetic speech narration. I have every confidence that, within my lifetime, I’ll be able to use an artificial intelligence that will be able to sound exactly like Joshilyn Jackson and have it narrate any of her books minus the stupid music. I look forward to using that AI.
They called her Arlene Fleet when she lived down in Possitt, Alabama. But she years ago re-invented herself, moved to Chicago, and became Lena Fleet. Her boyfriend is black; her teaching job in Chicago is rewarding, and she and God have made little deals that preclude her from ever again going back to Alabama. As the book opens, Lena celebrates the fact that she and God have kept their promises to one another.
But not all is well in Lena’s new world. Her aunt is hosting a retirement party for her uncle back home, and the pressure to come back for the party is high indeed. And there may be a problem with God keeping his promises to Lena. A woman from her hometown has appeared at Lena’s door asking whether she knows anything about Jim Beverly. Indeed, Lena does, and that knowledge is what has kept her from associating with anyone from back home or traveling there for any reason.
Jim Beverly is one of the gods in Alabama—a star high-school football player who moves the ball in miraculous ways and plays doctor with every girl in the high school, or as many as he can get to play along, at least once and often more.
Lena essentially grew up with her cousin, Clarice, and the two were inseparable—more like sisters than cousins. So why did Lena practically break down when the woman from back home showed up asking questions about Jim Beverly?
If you read this, you will gradually understand why, and it won’t be pretty. There is a rape scene in this book that is both graphically detailed and amazingly subtle in the telling. About now, you’re grumbling that one can’t do both. And that would be true with a less talented writer. But Jackson manages to pull this plotline off in layers like slowly, slowly pulling a bandage off lots of hair and a concentration of sensitive nerve endings. It will hurt like I can’t say what, and yet you’ll keep tugging and tugging at that bandage until the last centimeter is pulled off. When it’s off, you’ll gingerly touch that hyper-sensitive body part now covered in gnarly janky leftover adhesive marks and some part of you will wonder whether you should have pulled that tape at all.
You’ll read about a night that forever changed the lives of the two cousins and the football god, and you’ll be amazed that you managed to get through the intensity of this. But you will, because you’ll be enthralled with Jackson’s ability to write about the south and its complexities and nuances. In her talented way, she makes that region of the nation live and breathe and writhe in ways most writers never get close to.
I came away from this needing a brain shower or its equivalent—the ability to get lost in a nice, harmless piece of nonfiction. But it’s not all gloom and horror. There is much here to keep you smiling. Poor Lena has striven for years to avoid telling lies and to remain celibate. But that gets pretty complicated.
It’s narrator rant time; brace yourselves. Jackson should have read her book. I’m sure somewhere there’s a back story as to why she didn’t, but it would have been even more electrifying had she narrated it. Catherine Taber does a stellar job, make no mistake. But the producers overlaid Taber’s outstanding voice on a musical background that was too much, too ridiculous, and too obtrusive. Can someone please explain why sighted audiobook listeners have to have all that intrusive-as-heck music everywhere? I bet if you give any of them a nicely narrated straight NLS book done in the manner that NLS titles are done that aren’t commercial books, they’d cry and run from the book, declaring it too boring. Is it an addiction to that 55-inch flat-screen monster hanging above the bed or wherever they keep it that feeds the need for all-too-often horrible music backgrounds in their audiobooks? Are the publishers trying to give these poor people some kind of Netflix experience minus the screen? I can’t figure it out, and since I’m no sociologist, I’ll never know. But the music that is part of this book sharply and severely degraded it. I would do much better with background sound effects—make it sound like old-time radio if you have to—that’s better than some of the silly background music these commercial publishers insist on. Seriously, if I could have found a synthetic speech voice out there that had something approaching Joshilyn Jackson’s accent, I’d have blown off the audio version of this in favor of a nice synthetic speech narration. I have every confidence that, within my lifetime, I’ll be able to use an artificial intelligence that will be able to sound exactly like Joshilyn Jackson and have it narrate any of her books minus the stupid music. I look forward to using that AI.
Listed to this book. It’s an easy book, keeps you interested but not anything award winning. I like the author though
I almost didn't finish this book, because it seemed to be a little over the top-kitchen sink full of southern gothic stereotypes, but I stuck it out, and it is quite poignant, and worth it in the end.
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
This was a fun read - I finished it in two days. The funny, realistic and sometimes crude dialogue was entertaining and the story kept me interested (I have to admit I didn't see the ending coming). Great beach read!
Anne Bogel recommended this book as one of her "top 3" for the year so I had to read it; even though the title in and of itself would normally not speak to me. I did some audible, some kindle. I am highly sensitive and Anne things the author handled the sensitive material in a thoughtful way. I am not sure I agree. While I liked the book (because ultimately, I liked the characters) this isn't a book I would recommend to anyone-- because of the content at its core. I'm glad I read it, so that's a win.
Loved the fact that I couldn't figure out the ending until I read it - that rarely happens!!